


Peter Parker's Tiny Bathroom Window

by blackredallover (3ggnoth3r3)



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man/Deadpool - Joe Kelly (Comics), The Amazing Spider-Man (Movies - Webb)
Genre: Accidental Bondage, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Ass Play, Belly Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Embarrassment, Humiliation, Light BDSM, M/M, Oral Sex, Silly, Size Difference, Size Kink, Spanking, Winnie the pooh references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 08:04:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7836781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3ggnoth3r3/pseuds/blackredallover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The silliest guilty pleasure fic involving Deadpool, Peter Parker, and a window that's too small.<br/>One-shot. Finished now! Forgive any typos or grammatical errors, please! I wrote this while kind of stressed and running on fumes. XD</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peter Parker's Tiny Bathroom Window

**Author's Note:**

> This is not to be taken seriously. I just wanted to write some kinky smut and I love me some size kink Spideypool as well as Bottom!Wade and embarrassing situations. Anyhoo, I wrote this from the perspective that this could take place in a timeline where Peter and Wade have revealed their identities to each other and occasionally have awkward fuckbuddy sex... but Wade still registers as "Deadpool" to Peter because they don't live together as an established couple.

When Deadpool shows up unannounced in Peter’s apartment on his first day off in a month, that’s bad enough. When he insists on staying and chatting about how they could become permanent mission partners, that’s downright irritating. But Peter finds himself enjoying the merc’s company after he gives in and they share some waffles (frozen, but Peter’s gotta live on a measly freelancer’s salary, after all).

Deadpool doesn’t lift his mask up all the way as he eats, and Peter notices that he slurps and makes all sorts of rude noises while eating. But Peter takes a little bit of pity on him because he notices fresh bloodstains and rips in his suit. He doesn’t ask and Deadpool doesn’t tell, but he has a feeling that the visit wasn’t purely for company.

Deadpool is just finishing up his 4th helping of waffles (much to Peter’s chagrin) with extra butter and syrup when there is a knock on the door. Peter can immediately tell it’s not Aunt May- she wouldn’t bang on the door loudly three times or shout “Mr. Parker!”

“Oh no!” Peter hisses. “It’s my landlord—she can’t know you’re here!”

“Ouch.”

“No, no, you don’t understand- she’s extremely strict about this being a single person dwelling and no offense, but I don’t think she’ll be willing to let the fact that I’ve invited a killer—a well known killer—why are you always wearing your suit-- over for dinner slide. You’ve gotta go!”

Peter shoves him over to the bathroom door.

“What am I supposed to do? Hide in the shower?” Deadpool barely keeps his voice low enough and Peter turns back to the door with a start as the knocking continues.

“There’s a window, climb out that way.”

“Why can’t I just go out the window here?” Deadpool gestures to the fire escape.

“It’s directly connected to the apartments above and below, someone will see you.” Peter whispers. “Please just cooperate-!”

“Alright, alright!”

“After she’s gone I’ll give you the signal. Think you can jump from this floor?”

Deadpool laughs, probably a little too loudly. “Baby Boy, I can survive much worse than a 2nd floor tumble.”

“Okay, fine! Good! Just- just go!” Peter whisper-shouts, pushing Deadpool into the bathroom and shutting the door.

“I expect lots and lots of no-no touching!” Deadpool growls as he stumbles into the tiny room. Peter shoots him a glare through the door, even though he won’t see it.

“COMING!” He yells towards the door. Taking a deep breath, Peter tries his hardest to act natural when he opens it.

The landlady peeks in. “Mr. Parker, your rent is late again.” She looks at him suspiciously. “And I thought I heard someone else in here with you.”

“Oh, sorry- I uh, must’ve had the TV too loud.” Peter lies.

She looks at him sternly. “Don’t add noise complaints to the list, Mr. Parker. In any case, I expect that check by the end of the week. I’ll give you a break on the late fee this time, but don’t let it happen again.”

Peter hears a thud from the bathroom and breaks out in a cold sweat as the landlady quirks an eyebrow and looks over his shoulder toward the back of the tiny studio apartment.

“O-oh hey, I was wondering if it was gonna storm today,” Peter stammers. “Darn, sounds like thunder’s already rolling in.”

“I don’t hear any—“

“Well I’ll see you around. I’m so sorry about the late rent, I’ll have it for you as soon as I can. Thank you for your kindness.” Peter starts to close the door.

The landlady narrows her eyes at him, more in confusion than malice. “Anytime…”

“Bye, Mrs. Bateman, I’ll stop by sometime this week with the rent.”

“B-Bye-“ SLAM.

Peter listens for her footsteps as they retreat down the hall and down the stairs.

He leans against the door, sighing in relief.

Now to figure out where that fool went- maybe he’s just hiding in the alley behind the dumpster, Peter figures. He runs over to his fire escape window in the living area and peers down into the alley.

Nothing.

Peter opens the window and leans out but can’t see any sign of the mercenary in the area below.

“Hey, where’d you go?” He calls cautiously. “Uh, Wa- er, Dead-“

“-Over here.”

“What?”

“Around the corner~!” Deadpool sings cheerfully.

Peter turns his head to the left and sees Deadpool’s arm waving from behind the other side of the building.

“I told you to leave and wait in the alley!” Peter calls.

“I am!” Deadpool responds. “Well, I’m TRYING to!” He curses and Peter hears another thud from inside.

Peter shuts the window and opens the door to the bathroom.

He’s really not prepared for what he sees.

Deadpool’s red and black clad backside is hanging out of the narrow bathroom window, his legs kicking at the top of the toilet for leverage. Peter nearly trips as he steps on Deadpool’s discarded katanas and holster on the bathroom floor.

“Uh…” Peter taps Deadpool on the leg. “A-are you alright?”

He dodges a boot as the merc kicks at the air, clearly struggling.

“I will be, maybe. Gimme a few minutes here—“

Deadpool is roughly halfway through the window, his upper body jammed through the window frame and his arms on the outside of Peter’s apartment. Peter notices that the older man’s thick, muscular ribcage (what little he can see of it from this angle) is rubbing against the sides of the wooden frame.

“Maybe you should try to come back inside?” Peter calls to him.

“Ugh-! Tried- nnghhh- that already.”

He swings his legs clumsily against the bathroom wall (leaving unsightly bootprints and scuff marks) and braces his feet against it in vain. Peter watches and muses that it defies physics as to how Deadpool even got his massive shoulders through the window in the first place.

“Can’t you just let gravity do the rest?” Peter sighs.

“Tried that too, Baby Boy. Turns out the old ‘Pool has a little more junk in the trunk than originally thought.”

Peter’s eyes lock on to the rounded, meaty globes currently wriggling against the confines of the window. Peter feels his face heat up and he looks away quickly- not that Deadpool can tell he’s looking.

“Maybe you just need to get some leverage. I-I’ll give you a boost.” Peter offers, his voice higher than he’d like.

“That’d be- ghhnnn- just dandy.” Deadpool grunts.

“Don’t kick me, though.” Peter warns, moving cautiously towards Deadpool’s legs. He grabs him by the ankles and lifts the merc’s legs up so that they are level with the window.

He uses all of his strength to hold Deadpool’s legs, which otherwise would kick him in the head as he struggles to slide through the window.

Though, “slide” is relevant. From Peter’s perspective, “squirm and grind to a halt clumsily” would be more apt a description. 

“Hey,” Peter calls. “I’ve got your legs up so they’re parallel to the bathroom. You need to start pulling yourself through.” 

“Fuck!” He hears Deadpool through the wall. 

“Did you hear me?” Peter calls again. He tightens his grip on Deadpool’s ankles and pushes his legs forward slightly.

There’s a thud on the outside wall. Peter’s spidey sense allows him to hear it and zero in on the fact that it is roughly where Deadpool’s hands would be braced on the outside of the building brick siding.

“Uh. W-wade?”

“…I’ve BEEN pulling myself through.”

Peter stares at the window frame and sees that the sides of Deadpool’s hips are flush against the wood. It only takes a quick look to see that the merc’s ample rear (plenty round and plump from all the muscle built up through all of that fighting and dodging, Peter muses) is too large to squeeze through the window.

“Okay, okay… don’t panic.”

“Who’s panicking?! I’m not.” Deadpool’s voice is suspiciously high, bordering on shrill.

“I’m going to push you a little, okay? You brace your hands against the wall again and I’ll push your legs through.” Peter’s face is hot again as he looks at Deadpool’s waist and the extra flesh sticking out on his side of the window. “Ummm… you might need to suck it in a little.”

“For your very special information, Petey, it’s the window’s fault.”

Peter can’t help but let out a little laugh at that.

“Sure, Wade. Whatever. Anyway, I’m going to count to three. One… two… Three!”

He grips Deadpool’s ankles securely and pushes his legs towards the window, careful not to bend his legs uncomfortably. Deadpool strains and he can hear him grunting through the wall. Peter pushes as hard as he dares and the merc’s middle squishes through a few inches before coming to a complete stop at his bottom.

“Ow, ow, dammit!”

“Sorry!” Peter drops his ankles.

“Felt like my femurs were gonna end up in my intestines! Hold off on the Spidey strength.”

“I’m sorry, are you hurt?”

“No…” Deadpool sounds dejected. “Just my pride.”

His ass wiggles a little in an effort to pull himself through. Peter just lets himself stare at this point.

“…not the first time I’ve looked like an idiot in front of an Avenger. And I think we both know it’s not the last.”

Peter feels sorry for the guy.

“Don’t worry, we’ll think of something. I’m definitely not about to let you stay stuck in my bathroom window.”

“Might have to, unless you’re willing to cut me in half?” Deadpool suggests hopefully.

“NO. NO. Absolutely NOT.”

“I could regenerate.”

“Yeah, but—Wade, I’m not going to disembowel you on purpose. And besides, who knows how long it would take to regenerate.”

“Days, weeks, months. Who knows?” Comes Deadpool’s reply.

Peter wants to laugh but he’s also baffled by the entire situation. “Dude, did you just make a Winnie the Pooh reference?”

“Yep. See, this is why we’re good together. You get my references.”

“Should I call you Deadie the Pooh?” Peter smirks, poking him in the leg.

Deadpool twitches and kicks his leg out.

“Aah! That tickles. And that depends. It’s bad enough that I’m clogging up your bathroom window, I don’t want to think about what I’m going to have to pull to get you to never ever tell the rest of the boy band about this.”

Peter wants to put his hand reassuringly on Deadpool, but he realizes with a jolt to his groin that the only other place to put his hand is on that juicy rear.

“Ah… I wouldn’t… well, I wouldn’t tell them. I’m not in the ‘being a dick’ business.” Peter hopes he sounds reassuring, but in all honesty he’s trying to ignore the heat in his groin when he looks at Deadpool’s backside…

…and realizes that Deadpool is still wearing his belt. With all the pouches. And extra bulk. Peter smacks himself in the forehead for not realizing or noticing it sooner.

“Hey! I’m gonna take your belt off, maybe that’s hanging you up.”

“Oh, shit. I didn’t even think about that.”

Peter gingerly reaches underneath Deadpool’s hips to unbuckle the belt.

“Careful, Tiger,” Deadpool drawls flirtatiously. “Getting close to Deadpool Jr. and his twins Bea and Arthur.”

“S-shut up.” Peter clicks the belt open and pulls it to one side, letting the belt fall to the bathroom floor. “Okay, let’s try again. I’m gonna push a little harder.”

“Okay, ready whenever you are.” Deadpool’s voice is strained and his legs and hips are squirming with the effort.

Peter grabs Deadpool’s legs at the knees and pushes as hard as he can.

“…and I have a feeling it was the belt, because I may be pretty freaking ugly but I’m sleek as a seal. A tiny window wouldn’t defeat…ngh…me…” Deadpool rambles as he pushes against the wall.

Peter can see that it was in fact NOT the belt hanging the merc up.

“Am I moving, Petey?”

“No.” Peter grunts.

“…okay so maybe the tiny window has defeated me. I blame my genes. I have my mother’s hips. But on the bright side, you could bounce a quarter off my plump rump, amiright?”

Peter loses his grip on Deadpool’s knees and falls forward, nearly faceplanting into the very thing he’s trying to avoid thinking too much about. He catches himself by bracing a hand against the wall but the other one lands squarely on Deadpool’s left butt cheek.

Peter registers how fleshy and surprisingly soft the merc’s ass is before he stumbles back.

Deadpool doesn’t even seem to notice that Peter’s face came very close to being buried in his ass.

“Good idea, Petey. Use your Spidey strength and push on my ass.”

“Ah! Uh, I don’t think that’s going to work…” Peter says doubtfully. He’s got a full mast boner right now and the last thing he wants to do is push on the thing that’s given it to him in the first place.

“C’mon, pretty please?” Deadpool whines. “Unless you wanna coat me in butter, we should give that a try.”

“ohgod.” Peter mutters under his breath, cheeks aglow at the mental image of Deadpool’s lower half covered in butter of all things.

“Petey?” Deadpool does not realize how obscenely he’s wiggling his hips.

“Okay…” Peter places his palms gently on the round fleshy globes and gives Deadpool a weak push.

“C’mon, you’re not even trying!” Deadpool pants.

Peter can see the muscles in Deadpool’s lower back and ass flexing as he tries to squeeze himself through.

“Fine!” Peter squeezes Deadpool’s ass and pushes as hard as he can, using his slim fingers to try to squish the flesh through the window frame.

“Ow, ow. Okay, ugh… maybe too much, owww!”

Peter collapses on the toilet seat, holding Deadpool’s legs so he doesn’t kick him in the head.

“Yeah, you’re really stuck.”

“You’re the one who told me to go out this window!”

“YEAH, well, y-you’re the one who had to stuff his face with four helpings of waffles!”

Peter knows that’s not the reason Deadpool is stuck in his bathroom window, but it comes out anyway. Peter has enough knowledge of human metabolism and biology to know that a meal eaten 20 minutes ago wouldn’t affect Wade’s size now.

“First of all, hurtful. Second of all, it’s not my fault you made such delicious waffles.”

“Wade. They were frozen pre-made in a box…”

“Yeah, but… but you heated them up in the toaster and stuff, you did a good job on that.”

“We’re getting away from the topic at hand. I might have to call the fire department.”

Deadpool wiggles his ass from side to side, desperately trying to squeeze through.

“No! No, anything but that! Can’t you pull the window frame loose with- with your super spider strength or something?”

Peter thinks about it a second.

“You’d be in it.”

“Yeah but if you can get the window frame loose than I can at least cut myself out. I’ll pay for your window frame repair. Please… Just…” His voice gets small with embarrassment. “Anything but calling someone for help. The jokes would never stop.”

Peter feels his heart sink at Deadpool’s voice. He’s never heard him sound so humiliated.

“Let me try to pull it inside, at least. You have to watch your shoulders, though. You might come back through with a pop.”

“Anything to avoid being on the 5 o’clock news. And Tony Stark already has enough shitty things to sling at me.”

Peter grabs Deadpool’s legs and braces himself against the wall, bending his own leg and pushing against it with his foot.

“Okay, this is probably going to hurt.”

Peter yanks Deadpool’s legs back and—

“OW!”

Peter lands with a crash on his bathroom floor, completely stunned for a moment before—

“Uh… Petey? What’re you doing?”

Deadpool’s butt is hanging out of the window, still stuck, but completely bare in all its glory.

Peter’s eyes widen and he looks down to see that he’s ripped Deadpool’s pants off.

The lower half of the merc is now hanging out of the window with nothing on except for a ripped bit of fabric on his lower legs and his boots.

The sight, Peter admits to himself, is obscenely kinky and erotic. Naked from the waist down, plump ass on display, heavy cock and balls hanging down underneath, and muscular legs with knee-high boots and shreds of fabric. Peter’s cock twitches uncomfortably in his pants.

“Oh, jeez. You’re not gonna draw a fucked up moose face on my ass, are you?” Deadpool whines, kicking his legs.

“Only if you insist it all comes from not having bathroom windows big enough.” Peter retorts, still stunned at what just happened.

“On the other hand…now you could get the butter if you wanted.”

“What?!”

“I’m getting kinda frisky.”

Peter groans. “Ah…What was it? The nakedness or the pushing?”

“Both, probably. And in case you didn’t notice, I do have some bondage imagery as part of my costume. Probably the fact that I’m stuck here and can’t move. Kinda makes me feel like I’ve been tied up. Gets me hard every time. Don’t judge me.”

Peter swallows a lump in his throat.

“No judgment.” He answers, probably a little too quickly. “Um…I could use some lube to push you th-”

Deadpool moans. “Oh fuck, please don’t say lube when my ass is exposed to you. If I get a boner I’ll never squeeze through here.”

“So. What do we do?” Peter squeaks.

“Ah…” Deadpool makes an obscene noise in his throat. “Too late, yep. I’m at full chub right now. I don’t know, what do you think we should do? You’re the genius.”

Peter almost doesn’t hear the question because he’s staring at the merc’s thick red cock hanging down between his legs. The fact that Deadpool is still squirming left and right in the window and his ass flexes with the effort doesn’t help.

“I wanna fuck you.” Peter blurts out.

“Say what? Please tell me that you just said what I think you just said.” Deadpool’s voice on the other side of the wall sounds high and needy.

“I… Oh god, Dead- er, Wade, I want—“

“—please!”

It’s like a dam has burst. Peter doesn’t know what else to do, and honestly he doesn’t care at the moment.

Peter kneels on the toilet seat and kneeds his hands into the plump flesh of Deadpool’s ass, pulling his cheeks apart and gazing at the pink pucker hiding between.

Deadpool cries out and Peter slaps him across his right ass cheek.

“Be quiet! Or you really will be on the 5 o’clock news.”

The ass in front of Peter squirms enticingly and he sees that precum is leaking from Deadpool’s engorged cock.

“Yessir.” Deadpool replies meekly.

Peter is aroused by the sudden change in personality- he never thought he’d live to hear Deadpool call him “sir,” much less have him in this compromising situation.

“I-I’m going to prep you.”

“Mmm!” It sounds muffled, and Peter realizes that Deadpool must be covering his mouth on the other side of the wall.

Peter spreads his cheeks apart and dips his thumb into Deadpool’s opening, pressing just enough to push the tip in. The merc squirms and moans, but he doesn’t seem to be moving as if to escape the sensation, so Peter presses a little harder.

Deadpool spreads his legs wider, bracing his trembling knees on the wall in an attempt to push his ass out and closer to Peter. Something twists in Peter’s gut and he pulls Deadpool’s cheeks apart even further and brings his mouth to the tight pucker. He flicks his tongue out against the sensitive flesh and Deadpool spasms, hips bucking helplessly against the window frame.

Peter loses himself to the urge to eat the merc out, thrusting his tongue into Deadpool’s ass and pulling him open with his fingers to ease the way.

“Oh-Oh-! Petey-!” Deadpool grits out.

Peter can’t see the merc’s face obviously, but the way he’s moving his hips and pushing back against his tongue is enough to spur him on.

“Mm… you like that?” Peter purrs in between licks. “Maybe we can get you so worked up you’ll pull yourself free.”

“Ahhhh…”

Peter flicks his tongue over the tight opening, circling with the tip and pushing in again and again.

Deadpool keens in frustration, clearly unable to move as much as he’d like to given his situation. Peter smiles sympathetically and pushes his face into Deadpool’s ass, thrusting his tongue deeper than before. He places each hand on the back of the merc’s thick muscular thighs and spreads his legs impossibly wider as he pushes into him and forces his legs against the wall of the bathroom.

From the way that Deadpool twitches and the muscles in his ass cheeks contract, Peter can tell that the larger man must be pushing against the outside of the apartment building, both helplessly aroused and instinctively trying to escape the overload of sensation in his bottom.

Peter grins and nips one of the fleshy cheeks before bringing both of his index fingers to the reddened hole and pushing them inside to spread Deadpool open.

“P-please~” Deadpool whimpers.

“Well, since you’re being so polite…” Peter almost doesn’t recognize the sound of his own voice as he growls.

He stiffens his tongue and practically French kisses the merc’s spread open asshole, massaging his fingers against the inner walls and pressing against Deadpool’s prostate.

“Ghnn!” Deadpool stiffens up and Peter realizes that he’s ejaculated against the bathroom wall, strings of cum dripping down and landing on the top of the toilet.

Peter pulls back and milks the last few drops out of Deadpool’s cock.

“I… that was…quick.” Peter says quietly. He finds it insanely hot that Deadpool came from just his tongue in his ass.

Deadpool’s ass squirms in the window. “S-sorry…Not so great at lasting in situations—“

Peter gives him a squeeze. “Don’t be sorry.”

He slaps the plump backside, eliciting another whimper from the trapped merc.

Peter turns and quickly grabs some lube from his bathroom medicine cabinet. “Maybe this will help.”

“Uh. Are you still gonna- AH!” Deadpool cries out as Peter’s slicked up cock enters him.

“Sorry, should’ve given you…mmm… some warning…” Peter pants as he strokes Deadpool’s cheeks soothingly.

“N-nnnooo, this is…this is good.” Peter can practically hear the blush in Deadpool’s voice. “Kinda like it rough…”

“Rough?” Peter can barely hold it together as the tight heat squeezes his dick.

Deadpool pushes his hips back a bit, clenching down and Peter has to bite his lip to keep himself from exploding.

“Yeah…like it…rough.” Deadpool grits out.

Peter takes a moment to regain his composure and appreciate this situation more fully. This has got to be the kinkiest sex he has ever had, and he never expected it would be with one of the most annoying people in his social circle. And with Peter completely in control at that.

“I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Petey, I’m wedged tighter than Dr. Phil’s thong on vacation in the side of a brick building, and I’ve got Spider-Man’s dick up my ass. I don’t think today’s a day for gentleness.” 

Peter places his hand on Deadpool’s hip. “Well, when you put it that way…”

And he pushes himself in to the hilt, hips flush against the larger man’s ass.

Deadpool groans loudly and Peter smacks him across the ass.

“Shhh! The neighbor’s are gonna hear you.”

“Fuck- hit me again, Petey.” Deadpool’s voice is muffled- probably biting down on one of his hands again, Peter figures.

Peter slaps his ass once more and pulls out almost entirely before pushing in again, harder than before. Deadpool pushes back against him with small thrusts, unable to gain any leverage due to the way his middle is trapped in the window frame. Peter pulls out again and thrusts brutally, pulling a muffled squeak from Deadpool on the outside.

Peter reaches around the merc’s hips to milk his semi-erect cock, pumping him in time with his own punishing pace. With each push of his hips, Peter hears Deadpool’s muffled sounds of ecstasy on the other side of the wall.

Peter loses himself to the blissful sensation of being buried to the hilt in Deadpool’s tight slick heat, being squeezed so hard it nearly hurts by the merc’s tight ass with each thrust in and out. The feeling of his own bony hips meeting those plump ass cheeks is too much and Peter closes his eyes as he feels warmth spill on his hand, marking Deadpool’s second orgasm.

Biting his lip and shouting, Peter feels the tightness clench around him rhythmically, pulling his own explosive orgasm from him and shooting his seed deep inside Deadpool’s ass. He pulls back once more to thrust and suddenly feels cold air on his cock and hears a crackling noise, followed by a confused shout from Deadpool.

 

With a start, Peter opens his eyes to see that the window frame is splintered and Deadpool is nearly falling through the window, upper thighs bracing against the wall to keep the entire frame from tumbling down.

“OH, shit!” Peter grabs Deadpool by the thighs and hoists him back, pulling the window frame and the half naked man back inside. They tumble to the floor of the bathroom, Peter flat on his back and Deadpool (with the broken window frame still around his middle) landing with a loud thud next to him.

 

“A-are you okay?!” Peter yells, leaping to his feet and yanking his pants on.

 

Deadpool is flat on the floor, muscles completely relaxed and arms splayed out to the sides. He’s practically melting into the tile.

 

“Never… been… better…” He pants. Peter can swear he sees a stupid grin on Deadpool’s masked face, but it’s hard to tell sometimes.

 

Peter kneels over him and pulls the window frame apart, the wood splintering easily in his hands now that it is not surrounded by brick wall. Deadpool rubs his gloved hands over his bruised sides, already healing despite some nasty looking scrapes where the window held him.

 

“What just happened?” Peter asks, looking at the damage to his bathroom wall.

 

“You just fucked me so hard that you pushed me out, window pane and all, that’s what happened!” Deadpool still looks ridiculously blissed out, not caring at all that he’s splayed on the floor with his flaccid cock flopping against his bruised (rapidly healing) stomach.

 

“I…I guess I did.” Peter stares out the opening in the wall, cracks in the dry wall below mingling with Deadpool’s ejaculate. “I’ve gotta tape up this opening and fix it before the landlady finds out.”

 

Deadpool shakily gets to his feet, brushing away bits of splintered wood from his costume.

 

“Sounds like a plan. But first,” Deadpool sweeps Peter up into his arms. Peter squawks in surprise, awkwardly dwarfed by Deadpool’s broad chest and shoulders. He leans in and purrs in Peter’s ear, “Let me thank you for helping Deadie the Pooh.”

 

“WE ARE NOT GOING TO USE THAT NAME, EVER. NOT EVER AGAIN.”

 

“Alright, alright. But I still wanna give you a blow job to end all blow jobs.”

 

Peter blushes.

 

“…silly old bear.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Haha. I'm so sorry. I hope I haven't ruined Winnie the Pooh for anyone.


End file.
